Of Twilight and Dawn, A History of Redemption
by Sinictra
Summary: My own story, born from JKR series and an attempt to make justice to Severus Snape. It is written after Deathly Hallows and is, consequently, a spoiler in its conception.
1. Chapter 1

My own story, born from JKR series and an attempt to make justice to Severus Snape. It is written after Deathly Hallows and is, consequently, a spoiler in its conception. I make no profit from it. Feel free to copy or download, but please, don't change it. I'm Spanish so I feel it's my duty to warn you about the possible lack of good style or extensive vocabulary. I needed to get this story done so I can sort my sorrow. Please, comment and review if you feel so inclined. Enjoy.

Chapter 1 – Forgiveness

_In my dreams I see, see you come to me; a memory of times of old_

_Waking up, I realize Hell's as cool as ice_

_and the touch of sin did get me in_

_Nothing burns like the cold_

_In those silent shades of grey_

_I will find a place_

_to escape the endless night_

_to find a new sun_

_I know which is my fate_

_(…)I'll be always there_

_fighting the ancient sin_

_moon shine in this eternal night_

_Angels Are Calling_

_From Divine Lost Crystal Realms_

_Riding From Heaven_

_For The Magic Of The Wizard's Dream_

_The magic of the wizard's dream-Rhapsody of Fire_

_...and Snape moved no more. _

As the three teenagers went off the room, a dark hooded figure walked towards the body lying on the carpet. The stranger kneeled down besides the Potions Master and cast the same complex spell that Severus Snape had used on Draco that day in the bathroom. Life refused to return to the still body but the blood spilled all over the floor was vanishing. In agonizing slow motion, some colour started to spread along the marble features, the chest rising and falling in a barely noticeable attempt of life. Seeing these little signs, the unknown saviour took Snape's body, covered it with a cloak and muttered a spell making it rise about twenty centimetres from floor and then, the cloak fell empty to the ground. With a last look over the now empty room, the mysterious person left soundlessly.

Hell. A place where the slightest sign of life hurts. Breathing. Feeling. Being… just being was the most painful of tortures. In that gloomy place was where Severus Snape was lying. He was in a country cottage, with wooden walls and silvery blazons, a tapestry hanging on the hall above a bureau with nearly fifty small drawers, and a big mirror in the staircase wall. There were no portraits and a thick layer of dust covered the dark wooden surfaces of the bureau and the banister. The Potions Master lied in the middle of the hall, over a compass rose drew in the cold loses.

The cold was overwhelming and each chill sent down his spine made him shudder causing acute waves of pain go trough his wounded body. Severus Snape opened his eyes and was grateful of the semi darkness that came from the stained glass window that was the only roof and light source for the hall. He didn't recognized the house, nonetheless, the coat of arms portrayed in the afore mentioned stained glass window was vaguely familiar. He had no strength left to mull over that, he was aware of his life and cannot explain why he was still alive. Nagini had bitten him. The Dark Lord has been there, and Potter… he had given Potter his most precious and hated memories. The mere thought of what Potter will see made him dizzy, he dragged himself upstairs and make through a door that seemed to grant access to a bedroom. He was right, he climbed painfully to the bed and tried to get under the blankets and pearl-grey sheets to get rid of the consuming cold. Shivering, he drifted unconscious. An hour later, a sharp pain shook his body awakening him from the reign of shadows. His left forearm was burning, the Dark Mark becoming a deep shade of crimson and feeling like if a red-hot iron marker was pressed against it. Then it become cold, and vanished with a new wave of pain that rendered him unconscious again.

A muffled crack sounded in the dark room, two faded figures were approaching the bed where a pale man was sleeping in a rather unquiet way, some drops of sweat making his forehead shine under the moonlight. The intruders were an old man and a young woman whose crimson hair contrasted fully with the large silver beard of the wizard. They were staring at the sleeping man with a sad look in their faces.

_Hello my poor boy, _said the older one as a wistful smile was drawn in his face, _I have to come, I need your forgiveness, I cannot rest in peace without knowing that you can understand it, that you can forgive me for throwing you into this hell… it was necessary, for the greater good… I know this will make you laugh, believe in the greater good was never one of your strengths; you were always disdaining this purpose with your irony. I doubt if yourself realized that there was a huge part of that goodness inside you, that you were one of the biggest supporters of this battle towards peace. Well, I have to leave; tomorrow you will think that this was a dream. Maybe. But I am only allowed to visit you in your dreams, and when you look at the sunrise I will sent you a sign, something only you recognize, something which granted you that I have asked you for mercy despite I don't mere it… but I need it, and I never needed nothing before. I leave you with someone else, she is more than blissful of seeing you. I came to ask for forgiveness and she has come to give it. _

The aged man retired to the shadows, touched gently the cheek of the sorrowful woman and faded as fume from a candle. The woman looked at the man in the bed. Her eyes were showing a tender love, bright and happiness mixed with sadness. Looking further, there was something more in that look. There was pain, extreme pain and sorrow. There was mercy and compassion. There was pity and regret and yet, by heaven, there was love, and compassion.

The sleeping man seemed to feel the intense look he was being subject and he moaned and changed slightly his posture. Now, a moonlight ray was illuminating his face. He is a young man, thirty-five or forty, but he looked older. A deep frown cross his face even when he is sleeping, perhaps even is not the most suitable word to use, because when he is drowned in the slumber he is not able to hide his emotions as well as he do when he is awake… Curtains of dark lank hair framed the pale face, in his sleep you can guess a sober and sad expression that is concealed by his bitterness when those black eyes are open. The shade of grief seems to increase as he feels the stare of the woman. Still, he remains asleep.

The woman walked towards him and sat on the edge of the bed. She reached out her hand to touch him, but she stopped just a few inches from his cheek, then she started talking.

_Hi Sev. You look so alone, so weak here within this greyish blankets… if only I could embrace you, if only I could provide you the slightest warm… I know that you have been torturing yourself during the last seventeen years. You shouldn't do that anymore. I'm here and I cannot bear the idea of seeing you suffering one day more because of me. It was not your fault, you were young and you made the wrong decision… but it wasn't only your fault. You have received nothing but hatred and disdain, and I don't blame you for your attitude. Mistakes are made all the time, maybe yours had worse consequences, but it's time for you to live. Do you remember when I used to help you healing the bruises and wounds caused by you father rage outbursts? You never complained, just be there watching as I put iodine in it. You were abused and still you blame yourself for not being able to stop it. Voldemort threatened you certainly he was subtler but he still abused you. The pain has faded and death give perspective, I blame you no more, Wormtail betrayed us, and he has never had the slightest remorse. You have paid your dues time ago. I will remember you as I the skinny boy sat next to me in the thicket of trees, smiling as I called his name, without the frown and the sadness that have made a home of your face. _

_Y__ou tried to save me from the darkness that was covering the world in long strides when you noticed the implications. You were only 21. You tried to protect me; you made all that was in your hands to keep me safe. You forgot that time that the Dark Lord can read in the deepest part of our hearts and he won't count on something he never understood and still remain a mystery for him: love. The only guilty was him and his hatred consumed heart (if he has something which can be called like that), you have suffered too much, you have also done too much to redeem yourself. My son has already forgiven you, and James will do. Here is my forgiveness._

_Now, I should leave, the sunrise is coming and you will awake soon. _

She caressed gently his cheek, then, he made a sudden movement and she disappeared like the older wizard, she became a light smoke while uttering a simple sentence,

_I__ forgive you Severus._

He awake in that very moment, with the words echoing in his mind. A dream, it was all that have been. He got up and wobbled across the sober room. He reached the window and looked pensively through it. Then he felt a sudden shudder in his back, he looked into the dawn and his disbelief broke down as he saw a pair of twinkling eyes and a face he had not seen in seventeen years reflected on the window glass. He turned to his back and saw nothing but the empty and cold room he occupied in Malfoy's cottage. He looked again through the window and the two familiar faces remained there, he reached out a hand to touch the fresh glass where the beloved face was standing and then, he looked into the blue eyes. Remembering the dream, he took a deep breath and said:

"Albus, I forgive you." As he said this, the older wizard in the glass smiled, and then, looking closely to the woman Severus said, "Thank you my love". And with this last words, the reflections disappeared.

Severus made his way back to the bed, too weak to stand more than a few moments. He lay on the pillow and raised a hand to his neck feeling the rough tact of the healed skin. He couldn't recall who have brought him to the safe cottage, who have saved his life. He had hoped to die since the very moment he knew about Lily's death, but Dumbledore made him stay. And now, she had forgiven him, he had achieved redemption, he was finally able to die and look for peace. And someone had deprived him from the rest of death. And the Dark Lord has been defeated, the Dark Mark was gone. Potter must have died. Lily's son has offered himself as sacrifice for the greater good and he was still alive. Yet, Lily had forgiven him.

Severus was now drowsy and weak, so he let the spiral of pain and dizziness get over him and drift him back to sleep. He feared sleep, he feared not awaking a next time… He feared the most see a new awakening, see the birth of a new dawn…


	2. Reflections on the death

_Sorry for the long delay but my mum got surgery twice lately so I've been quite busy (and the chapter is a bit...gloomy, but my mood was so). Another apologyse should be made for the poem, it is in Spanish, sadly, I have not found any translation on the web neither on available books. The reference is: author: Gustavo Adolfo Becquer, book: Legends, tales and poems, rhyme LXVI. Thanks for all that read and reviewed. A bit clarification, this chapter will be split in two parts, it would lost its coherence if I put it as a different chapter, and this will be too long if I put it together. I'll update as soon as I can, thanks again, and let me know whatever you think no matter if it is good or bad as long as it is written politely. Beta needed, anyone up for it?_

_**Chapter 2 Reflections on the death… (part I)  
**_

_¿De dónde vengo..? El más horrible y áspero  
de los senderos busca:  
Las huellas de unos pies ensangrentados  
sobre la roca dura;_

_  
los despojos de un alma hecha jirones  
en las zarzas agudas,  
te dirán el camino  
que conduce a mi cuna._

_  
¿A dónde voy? El más sombrío y triste  
de los páramos cruza,  
valle de eternas nieves y de eternas  
melancólicas brumas._

_  
En donde esté una piedra solitaria  
sin inscripción alguna,  
donde habite el olvido,  
allí estará mi tumba_.

Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer

It was a cloudy day. The storm had died down hours ago but had left behind dark clouds that matched with the gloomy mood of the event. A week had passed since the defeat of Voldemort, the bodies had finally been recuperated, and a group of special Healers had been working with the injured ones avoiding more deaths.

Mourners stood in small groups linked by the loss of beloved friends and relatives. One of these groups was attracting people stares. _The Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived Twice. The Saviour… _in short Harry Potter was standing among a red-haired bunch. The Weasleys had lost Fred. George, his twin, was looking pale and rather sick; Molly Weasley was snuggled up to his husband looking for some elusive solace; the rest of the family was standing with teary eyes and pale faces, embracing each other trying to find some comfort. A bit apart Hermione Granger stood with Ron's arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, looking at the sleeping baby Andromeda Tonks was holding against her chest.

Kingsley Shackelbolt, new Minister for Magic, climbed up a platform and his deep rich voice flew across the great graveyard without needing any magical amplification. The overwhelming silence was only broken by occasional sobs.

"Good evening. I won't be long, this is not an occasion to be cheerful. This is not the time for celebrations and feasts. Darkness has been defeated but so much was sacrificed, so many dreams were broken and too many lives of the beloved were left behind. We are here because it is time to mourn the dead and acknowledge their role. They have taught a lesson of courage and braveness to all of us, they have fought in order to bring a new dawn. We have to thank them and pray for them. It's now our turn. We have to take care of the peace and time they have bought for us. We have to be together, we have to grant forgiveness and see that between black and white there are uncountable shades of grey. Fanaticism, in any way it presents itself, is a cancer; we cannot turn into our enemy, and revenge will only bring more war, more tears… that's why here, in the presence and memory of our heroes, I make a call for compassion, forgiveness and trust in justice. Thanks for being here today, our friends, and relatives died fighting for something good, let's make their sacrifice worthy."

"I don't think this is the place to ask for forgiveness. Kingsley should have kept his mouth shut rather than talking like the sorting hat" George said bitterly.

"This is the best place. Those who are here are the most damaged and affected by the war. There are many people that would gladly begin a new war by starting a Snargaluffs hunt for the sake of revenge" retorted Hermione.

"But… but… I lost my twin… you can't understand it. Your family is fine, they have been safe all the time… and…" George's speech was interrpted by the flustered hug of his mother. Hermione burst into tears and talked with a barely intelligible voice between sobs.

"He… Fred… was my family too. I loved him… and my parents… I renounced to them for their safety. I… I understand what you are going through, and Kingsley knows it too, that's why he calls for peace and sense." Ron hugged her tighter and George regretted his words, the connection between twins is deeper than any other and he felt the loss of his brother more than anyone did, more even than Molly. He couldn't help but remember the look of concern in Fred's face when he returned wounded from the mission retrieving Harry, how Fred had make it easier with his jokes and company. He couldn't help but think that maybe, if he had been there with him, he would be there by his side… nobody will mistake them again… nonetheless he new that Hermione, of all people, felt the loss like if it was a member of her family.

"I… sorry Hermione. I just… miss him."

"I know, I never intended to dismiss his death or anything like that"

"Yeah, sorry"

Moments later the Weasleys accompanied Andromeda Tonks to the family vault where her husband, Lupin and Tonks rested, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione alone. Ginny cast a sideways glance at Harry and then went after her parents. The trio had spent little time alone since the death of Voldemort: Harry had been busy explaining Kingsley and other members of the Order of the Phoenix the nature of his task, omitting to inform about the part of being a Horcrux; Ron spent time with his family, arranging Fred's things and being just together; and Hermione made a trip to recover her parents and try to achieve some kind of normality. She was brave and very smart, but seeing her parents living a happy life without her… she had done a great job in planning a comfortable life for them there but she was not ready for seeing how easily they went on alone. Some part of her wished selfishly that their love for her would have broken the charm and make them go back and look for her. She had made the journey all alone, Ron too engrossed in his family and his loss to ask him to come with her, and Harry too busy giving explanations and sorting questions and interviews that will haunt him until they get a satisfactory answer. She wasn't blaming them, she just felt a bit lonely after having done everything for them. Those kinds of sentiments were more likely to be on Harry's mind than on hers. She met her parents and surreptitiously released the enchantment making sure that she was near to explain why they were in Australia. Now, her parents were glad that she was alive and safe and that there was no more threat in the Magic World for those born in Muggle families. This made that after the original fit of rage about her facing all those dangers they chose to be together planning their return to London and try to erase the haunting past behind.

Harry had confided absolutely everything about the facts of the night, including his meeting with Dumbledore and the things he explained. He thought it was the right thing to do, after all they have been going through for him, they had earned the rights to know the whole story. He was delighted to see that they hadn't recoiled when he explained how a part of Voldemort had been growing within himself, their souls intertwining and finally broking apart when he voluntarily sacrificed himself. This shocked them, they hadn't comprehend when Harry told Voldemort he had emulated his mother's sacrifice, and now they know that he had been keen to give his life for the Wizarding World. Now the three of them stood in companionable silence until Harry spoke.

"Come on, I want to visit someone" Ron and Hermione nodded quietly and followed him. After several minutes wandering the graveyard, Ron asked apathetically,

"Who are we looking for?"

"Snape"

Hermione and Ron nodded silently and continued wandering looking in the gravestones. He had told them all about Snape's memories, they, along with Shackelbolt were the only ones to know everything. He had shown the Weasleys the part concerning George's ear and was pleasantly surprised of how all of them accepted Snape's innocence eagerly. However, Harry suspected that it had more to do with their own pride and how they were prompt to admit that neither Dumbledore nor they were mistaken. Admitting their error would have meant that many lives had been lost due to their over-trust. After the revelation Harry made while fighting Voldemort people looked amazed. At first they thought it was all a trick Harry was using to get Voldemort off guard, then the wand, the tale… everything fitted proving Severus Snape innocent. Although the memories concerning the Potions Master's feelings remained private on Harry's demand, those thought that proved his plan with Dumbledore and his loyalty towards the Light were made pubic in a trial. Now the name of Severus Snape was clean and, even if many people continue to hold him in contempt, some of his former pupils were indulging his behaviour in class attributing it to his stressing role as double-spy.

The third time they reached the edge of the graveyard without having catch a glimpse of the name of their Professor amongst the tidy rows of graves, Hermione stopped and took her wand out, then muttered a spell.

"Pathfinder" stated simply. A brilliant light appeared in front of them and started to move between the marbled tombstones. The graveyard was vast and the tombs were disparate, nonetheless, all of them were built in marble (black or white) and slim calligraphic inscriptions carrying the bare names of their inhabitants or wearing short epitaphs and love messages. Finally, the spot of light stopped in front of a great monument representing a wizard and a witch. There was something strange in the statue, it was beautiful, well proportionate, a little vault asked for donatives to raise widows and orphans. All was correct but they still felt like missing something. The figures had no face, they were enchanted to adopt the face of the dead wizards and witches whose names appeared written down in the inscription below.

"_To those who fought and died for the dawn of a new era._

_Their bodies can be lost; their memories will never be forgotten"_

Engraved on the stony pedestal appeared the names of all that lost their lives in the fight and whose bodies could never be found, victims either of dark magic or evil creatures. Scanning the alphabetical list of names, Harry's eyes first noticed the now clean name of his godfather, exonerated from all charges in one of the first trials. Harry felt warm tears reach his eyes thinking of how happy they would have been together and how Voldemort had destroyed his dreams and those of many others. Alastor "_Madeye_" Moody name was also written down the rock and Harry remembered the old tree where his eye lay. Finally, they located Snape's name, magically the figure of the wizard turned in the familiar face of their former Potions Professor. The customary frown, the hooked nose… and now, for the first time, they looked at him with a wistful smile, noticing deep under the frown concern and honour. They knew now that the usual loath usually displayed in his features was directed not just to the world surrounding him but also towards himself. The black gothic words of his epitaph said:

Severus Snape

February 9 1960 – May 13 1997

Sacrificed his whole life for the sake of redemption.

"The epitaph could not be more perfect."

"Pse… so many others sacrificed themselves for this, the inscription tells it: _"to those who fought and died for the dawn of a new era", _it is rather random."

"How typical of you Ronald. Harry is right, it is just perfect. You can certainly use some of the subtlety Snape was always talking about."

"Erm… sorry? I'm not brilliant, you know it. You are the brain in this relationship –Ron blushed furiously at the word relationship– erm… care to explain?"

"Sure. The nuance is in the use of the word _whole. _ Snape not only fought during war, he spent his entire life looking for redemption. Watching over Harry, spying for Dumbledore, teaching at Hogwarts… he has never been free. First Voldemort, then Dumbledore… the lord doesn't matter. After seeing his memories we know now how deep he could love, how deep was his regret. He was probably only seventeen when he joined the Death Eaters, and he was only twenty-one when he…"

"We are seventeen and we haven't rushed for the Dark Arts! "

"Ron! We didn't hate muggles for an abusive father who hit us and beat our mothers to death, we went through Hogwarts together… Before the encounter with the troll I would have eagerly joined any group which seemed slightly keen to accept me. And you can't forget that even Dumbledore fell into the Dark Arts once, mature, full-grown-up wizards and witches were seduced by Voldemort and did not even flinch before murder. And those who rejected it, who found it repulsive… so few of them were brave enough to do something to put a stop to it. Snape sacrificed his _WHOLE _life trying to redeem himself, obtaining with it redemption for everyone."

"Yeah, sorry. I know he was important for the war, I wasn't despising him. It's just that I cannot put his death on the same level of Fred's. I mean, his role was more important, we wouldn't have won the war without the information he provided or destroyed the Horcruxes without his help but… I still think that world must have stopped the very moment Fred fell to the ground, any other death ignored in front of his loss, and…"

Ron's voice trailed off as the tears he was holding back started to run down his freckled cheeks. As the rest of his family, Ron blamed himself for the death of Fred, every member thought that if they had been there the red headed joker will be casting pranks on them, distracting people from their loss, doing some crazy research on a new product to sell in the twin's joke store… Hermione hugged him and, although she was significantly shorter, she kissed his forehead and held him tightly stroking his hair in a comforting way.

Harry wandered his look around the vast graveyard. He watched his two friends and their painful embrace. He watched the mourners dressed in dark robes, so similar and yet so different from the attire of the Death Eaters, kneeling or standing downcast beside the tombs. He looked up to the monument without face and the tears he had been fighting back since the defeat of Voldemort came to his eyes in a weary flood. His parents. His Godfather. His Professors. His friends… All were killed by the last Dark Wizard, who was now dead. Truly dead. The task completed he could now cry for them and grieve properly.

It was certainly the twilight of a era, but every twilight turn eventually in a new dawn, no matter how dark had been the night, the sunrise will bring a day more brilliant than the previous, full of life and free of threat.


End file.
